


Things Change

by prepare4trouble



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alcohol, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blind Kanan Jarrus, Caleb Dume had a crappy time on Kaller, Clone Troopers - Freeform, Clones, Distrust, Friendship, Gen, Happy-ish anyway, Post-Episode: s02e21-22 Twilight of the Apprentice, Post-Order 66, Star Wars Rebels: Steps Into Shadow, Zeb's secret waffle stash, bad memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-06
Updated: 2017-10-06
Packaged: 2019-01-09 21:23:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12284655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prepare4trouble/pseuds/prepare4trouble
Summary: It's hard to trust someone when everything about them reminds you of the worst time of your life.  Still, somehow, a friendship develops.





	Things Change

**Author's Note:**

> From an anonymous prompt on Tumble _"Hello. Would you like to write a story that shows different phases of Kanan and Rex interacting? Through suspicion, then as soldiers in the same war and finally friends?"_
> 
> (Thanks to pomrania for help with the title!)

The nights on Kaller had been cold and unforgiving.  Kanan remembered hours spent in hiding, desperately trying not to shiver for fear that the sound of his teeth chattering would give him away.  He remembered cramping muscles protesting against the awkward positions he had forced them into as he squashed himself into small spaces when there had been no chance to run, and prayed that the Force would protect him.

It wouldn’t, of course.  The Force was no longer on his side, if it ever had been.

He remembered the rain one night, a torrential downpour that had almost cleared the streets of people, and he remembered the drain into which he had squeezed himself, curled up and barely fitting, feeling the constant drip of rainwater on his head and down the back of his neck.  He remembered the footsteps overhead, loud and echoing, just inches from his ear.  He remembered the certainty that this was it; that they were going to find him.

And he remembered that voice.

Kanan tried to keep the suspicion out of his gaze as he watched the clone look around the ship, heard him talking to Ahsoka.  But he couldn’t stop himself from feeling it, no more than he could stop the sight of the man or the sound of his voice transporting him right back there, back to Kaller.  Back to his Master’s death, and the months that followed it.  This clone may not have been responsible, but that didn’t mean that Kanan was ever going to be able to trust him.

* * *

“You still don’t trust me, do you?”

Kanan didn’t actually leap into the air at the unexpected question, but he felt as though he had.  He had known the clone was there, of course.  He had barely taken his eyes off him since he had entered the room.  

He folded his arms.  “Ahsoka trusts you,” he said, as though that was an answer. 

The clone nodded.  “I know,” he said.  “But you don’t.”

Kanan wanted to deny it, to insist that the clone was wrong, but he couldn’t bring himself to lie.  Not about something like that.  “How about we just get on with the repairs?” he said instead.

* * *

The clone gave him a friendly nod as Kanan entered the room.  He was seated at the only table, tucking into one of Zeb’s waffles.  Kanan knew for a fact that they were Zeb’s because there hadn’t been any that morning when he had checked.  That meant either that Zeb had shared with him, or that the clone had taken it upon himself to hunt down Zeb’s hidden supply of waffles.

Kanan assumed it was the former.

He nodded in greeting and walked to the supply cabinet to get something for himself.  The shelf was empty of everything but a single ration bar of a flavor he hated.  With a sigh, he picked it up, hesitated, and put it down again.  He wasn’t that hungry.

As he turned to leave, the clone cleared his throat.  Kanan turned back to look at him and the clone slid a plate in his direction.

There were two more waffles there, golden brown and smelling so sweet they made his mouth water.  He looked at the clone, unsure what to do.

“Go ahead,” the clone told him.  “There’s enough to share.”

Kanan shook his head.  “That’s not the problem.”

The clone frowned, hurt but understanding, and began to pull back the offered plate.

“No, I mean, Zeb definitely knows you have those, right?  You’re not trying to make me into an accomplice?”

The clone chuckled and picked up one of the two waffles.  “Don’t worry, I have permission.”

* * *

“This takes me back.”

Kanan turned to look at Rex, a quizzical expression on his face.  They were crouching behind an armored land vehicle, ready to attack the group of stormtroopers guarding an Imperial facility.  “To what?” Kanan asked.

Rex shrugged and peered around the edge of the vehicle to check the position of the enemy.  “Plenty of times,” he said.  “Different enemy back then of course, but similar circumstances.”

Kanan shook his head as he readjusted his grip on the hilt of his lightsaber.  “A lot of things were different back then.”

“And a lot of things never changed.”

He was right, of course.  “I never got the chance to see much action back then,” he admitted.  “Maybe you could tell me some stories sometime.”

Rex chuckled quietly.  “Any time,” he said.  “Hey, did you ever hear about a Jedi named Skywalker?”

* * *

“Another one?”  Rex raised the bottle, offering it to Kanan.

Two identical images swam before his eyes, and he reached out to grab one of them, only to miss completely.

Rex laughed.  “On second thoughts, maybe you shouldn’t,” he said, but unscrewed the top and filled both their glasses again.  He picked up his own glass and held it at eye level, waiting for Kanan.  Kanan copied, and they chinked them together, spilling a few drops on the table.

They had intercepted a food shipment meant for an Imperial base on one of the occupied Outer Rim worlds.  Apparently, some items in the shipment had been special-ordered by some higher-up, because along with the usual rations and dried goods, they had found some fresh supplies and several bottles of Corellion whiskey.

Well, there had been no point letting something like that go to waste.

He raised his glass to his lips and took a large gulp, feeling the pleasant burn as the whiskey travelled down his gullet.  Rex refilled the glass as soon as it hit the table.  

“I was right,” Kanan said. 

“Well, there’s got to be a first time for everything,” Rex told him.  “Right about what?”

Kanan laughed, but he wasn’t quite drunk enough yet to say it out loud.  It was only a joke, but he wasn’t sure if it would ruin the mood; the idea that Rex really had been wanting him dead, all this time he had been waiting for the right opportunity, and he had found it.  Alcohol poisoning.  He shook his head.  “Doesn’t matter.  How much do you think we’ve had?”

Rex squinted at the bottle in his hand.  “Shots?” he asked. “Or bottles?  Why?  Think we should slow down?”

Kanan shook his head.  He had lost track too, completely and irrevocably.  He leaned heavily against the table, feeling the room spinning.  He was long past the point where he was going to be able to do anything but nurse his sore head tomorrow anyway, so he might as well enjoy it while he still felt good.  “Keep it coming,” he said.

Rex grinned and did as he was asked.  “Sure, but I don’t envy you having to explain this to your lady tomorrow,” he said.

* * *

Kanan sat on the edge of his bunk, head resting carefully in his hands.  The medical droid had left him minutes earlier, and to his relief, Hera had given in to his request to be left alone for a while. He could sense her presence nearby, and her worry, just as he could sense Ezra’s horror and guilt.  Proximity would only make it worse.

Everything was pain and darkness.  Not only his eyes, or…lack thereof?  He wasn’t sure about the details of the injury, not yet.  He wasn’t sure he wanted to be.  Not only that; every muscle ached fiercely and a dozen more minor wounds competed for what remained of his attention.

The bandage covering his eyes was tight, it felt restrictive and he longed to take it off.  He wouldn’t do that of course; to do so would probably destroy any chance he had of seeing again.  The droid hadn’t seemed hopeful of the bacta making any real difference, but Kanan couldn’t accept that.  It would heal.  It had to.

It  _had_  to.

At the far side of the room, the door opened.  Kanan flinched, reaching automatically for his lightsaber.  It wasn’t there, of course.  He had taken it off his belt and put it… somewhere.  He had no idea where.  He felt the sudden urge to search for it, to make sure it was safe.

“Came to check up on you,” said a voice on the other side of the room.  Kanan froze.  The darkness and the fear confused him and just for a moment he was back on Kaller, afraid, alone, faced with a clone trooper.

No.  This wasn’t that.  His hand touched the familiar surface of his bunk, he reached out through the Force and found Hera.  He was home, he was safe, and the voice on the other side of the room was Rex.

“I heard what happened,” Rex continued.

Kanan nodded.  Of course he had, everyone probably had by now.

“Tell me something,” the clone said.

Kanan braced himself; he knew exactly what Rex was going to ask, and he didn’t want to have to answer it.

“Is there any chance she made it out?”

* * *

“So, are you back now?”

Kanan turned at the sound of Rex’s voice and his approaching footsteps, and waited for him to catch up before continuing to make his way slowly back to the Ghost.  “No.  Maybe.  I don’t know,” he said.  “I went on one mission because Ezra needed me.  All of a sudden everyone’s decided I’m ‘back’ and everything’s going to carry on as normal.”

“And it’s not?  You handled yourself pretty well saving the kid, from what I heard.”

He shrugged.  “I don’t know.  It comes in bursts; one minute everything’s so clear, the next I’m slowly picking my way across the base, certain I’m going to miss something unexpected and fall on my ass.”

Rex laughed and patted him roughly on the back.  “Well, hey, just don’t forget that if you do, you’ll have no shortage of friends to help pick you up and point you in the right direction.  Nobody’s expecting miracles, not yet anyway.”  He paused.  “Maybe in another couple of months though.”

“I don’t want people to have to pick me up,” Kanan said.  He heard the bitter note in his voice, and didn’t bother to disguise it.

“No?  I guess you’d better work harder at not falling then.”

Kanan turned to face him, surprised.  The action was instinctive, and he felt a little silly when he realized what he was doing, but Rex could still see  _him_ , so hopefully it would still have the same effect.

“What?” asked Rex.  “Thought I’d tiptoe around you like you’re going to break?”

Some people still were, and although he didn’t  _like_  it, he had started to get used to it.  "You?“  he said.  “Never.”

“Good.”

Kanan continued walking.  Through the Force, he could sense his destination, and the area in front of his feet.  He reached out further afield than that, checking for larger obstacles and finding the way still clear.  He wasn’t going to make a fool of himself, not tonight at least.  And if he did, he trusted his friend not to make a big deal of it.

Because Rex  _was_  his friend now.  There was a time when the idea of that seemed impossible, but he remembered the way his fight-or-flight response had triggered at just a glimpse of the clone, or the sound of his voice, and it seemed ridiculous now.

“Rex?” he said.  “I’m sorry.”

“For?”

It was going to be tough to put into words.  “For the way I used to act.  For not trusting you.  For thinking…”  he stopped.  Rex probably knew what he had been thinking, it wouldn’t help to say it out loud.

“It’s forgotten,” Rex told him.  “And I don’t blame you one bit.  Some of my brothers did some terrible things.  It wasn’t exactly their fault, but they did them nonetheless.  And then you run into a guy with the same face.  Of course you’re going to get jumpy.”

Kanan smiled wryly and shook his head.  “Well, your face isn’t going to be a problem for me anymore, at least.”

“That’s one way to find the positive,” Rex told him.  “But I like to think I won you over long before that happened, with my sparkling personality.”

“That,” Kanan agreed, “And I like to think I’ve grown a lot the past year or so.”

Rex laughed.  “Me too,” he said, and patted his belly loudly.  “Widthwise.  Being part of an army again is great, but three square meals a day’ll do that to an old man, apparently.  I’m going to have to slow it down or I won’t fit in my armor.”

Kanan shrugged.  “You  _have_  been wearing it for the past couple of decades, maybe it’s time for a change.”

He reached the entrance to the Ghost and relaxed immediately when he felt his feet on familiar ground.  Being outside was fine, but the ship was home, it was comfortable.

“So,” Rex said, repeating his earlier question.  “ _Are_  you back?”

Kanan considered it carefully, and nodded.  “Yes,” he said.  “I think I am.”


End file.
